


Oh Mercy Me

by Authoress



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: College AU, D/s elements, M/M, Sexting, Strip Tease, and oikawa makes sure suga answers for his crimes, dirty talking, lots of sex and teasing, so much dirty talking, suga presses oikawa's buttons, window fucking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-01
Updated: 2015-11-01
Packaged: 2018-04-29 04:43:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,125
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5116109
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Authoress/pseuds/Authoress
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Oikawa had said he was bored in class, he hadn't really intended for <i>this</i> to be his distraction.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Oh Mercy Me

**Author's Note:**

  * For [junebirds](https://archiveofourown.org/users/junebirds/gifts).



> NYAAAAAA IT'S DONE!!! this is my second commission for my dearest katie :3 it's about time i wrote oisuga, and i'm REALLY pleased with the result. this fic is also responsible for getting me out of my nsfw writing slump. i hope you enjoy it!

 

It didn’t matter how great the professor was who ran the class—there was no way to make a lecture to a class of two hundred interesting.

Oikawa leans back in his chair, far enough that he agitates the person behind him, and sighs. Why didn’t he take the honors course again? That one was only thirty-five students and a professor who wasn’t a _snore-fest_ like this one. Ah, right…it was also an 8AM class and like _hell_ Oikawa was going to lose a minute more of his beauty sleep than he had to.

Still, can’t his professor do better than reading off a powerpoint in a monotone voice? Can’t he see that half the lecture hall is already asleep, slumped over the tables or staring into space, eyes glassy? Oikawa purses his lip and balances his pen between his nose and upper lip. What a shitty way to end his day. He didn’t even _want_ to take Nutritional Science 1 this semester—he’d rather be taking Intro to Exercise Science, which was his _actual_ major. Boring, boring, boring…the pen slips from his face and clatters to the floor. Oikawa considers lying on the ground next to it.

The professor flips the slide, begins to read off the definition of a calorie, and that’s when Oikawa gives up on class for the day. Whatever…the powerpoints were posted online, anyway. He opens his laptop and scrolls to Sakura University’s sports website. He navigates to the volleyball club’s homepage and smiles. Iwaizumi’s game ended about an hour ago, and they won both sets. Oikawa would have to give him a call, pester him to share the team’s secrets to success, assure him that Oikawa would be ready for the day Tokyo went against Sakura…

Oh? What was the date for that again? Two months, right? Oikawa fishes his phone out of his bag, disturbing his neighbor to his right, who jolts out his trance and shoots Oikawa a watery glare. Oikawa responds with a charming smile and goes back to leaning in his chair. He flips through his phone, pulling up his calendar. He makes a pleased noise: his match with Iwa-chan would be in a month and a half, not two months after all! Oikawa’s leg jiggles excitedly.

A snapchat notification from Suga stops his leg mid-bounce. Oikawa tilts his head to the side, curious. Suga was supposed to be buying groceries for them—it was his turn to restock the dorm fridge. What could be so interesting that he felt the need to snap Oikawa? Oooo, maybe he bought some of Oikawa’s favorite milk bread and wanted to surprise him! Suga was so good to Oikawa, honestly. He was lucky to have such a caring roommate and partner.

Oikawa opens the snap and comes face to face with Suga’s perfect and _completely bare_ ass.

Maybe there was a caption, maybe there was an explanation for the picture, but Oikawa wouldn’t know because he slams the phone face-down on the table so loudly, the people from two rows in front of him glance back at the noise. It’s a miracle that their professor doesn’t stop talking to ask what the commotion is about because Oikawa is _so red_ and so flustered that the only thing on his mind is a constant loop of _holy shit holy shit holy shit_.

Eventually, his classmates lose interest in him, but Oikawa still sits bolt upright, all his muscles pulled tight in shock. He lets out a shaky exhale, glances surreptitiously to either side to confirm no one saw anything, and picks up his phone like it might bite him. Or start spewing porn of his boyfriend. _Holy shit._

He sends a snap of his table back to Suga with the caption _‘what the FUCK was that about??’_ His heart is still pounding from the close call as he rests the phone on his leg. Oikawa tries to re-focus on the lecture, but all he can think of is the briefest flash of that picture and the fact that Suga had _never_ done anything like that before. His phone buzzes.

This time, Oikawa takes much greater care to hunch over and tuck the phone underneath his body protectively. He bites his lip and opens Suga’s reply. This time, Oikawa has time to take in the fact that Suga is lying on Oikawa’s bed, completely naked, the low light of afternoon casting a silvery glow over the curve of Suga’s back, the press of his shoulder blades together, and the roundness of his ass that Oikawa knew as well by touch as he did by sight. And to complete the image of otherworldly grace, Suga’s legs are propped up, hooked together at the ankles—an innocent pose to contrast the sinfulness of the photo.

_I miss you,_ the caption reads.

Oikawa takes two deep breaths to calm down. _This cannot be happening_ , he tells himself. Sure, sexting wasn’t anything new between them, but they had always done it in _private_ , not when one of them was in public, not when anyone could see—

_‘I’m in CLASS,’_ Oikawa texts Suga, not doing him the dignity of replying to the absolutely lewd snap _. ‘I thought you were out shopping!!!’_

_‘I already bought our groceries,’_ Suga replies. _‘I want you, Tooru.’_

“Fuck,” Oikawa whispers under his breath. The thing is, under normal circumstances, he could deal with this. He could tease Suga and get him all hot under the collar, smirking to himself and leaning back in his chair, not a care in the world. He would even sext in class, under normal circumstances. The problem is that they hadn’t had sex in _weeks_.

Like, what the fuck was that all about? They weren’t sharing a dorm for no reason. Oikawa enjoyed getting regularly laid. He enjoyed getting to run his fingers and mouth all over the pale expanse of Suga’s bare skin. He enjoyed waking up with a warm body wound around his, wrinkling his nose at Suga’s morning breath when he yawned and half-laughed, a sleepy “Mornin’ to you, too.”

Fucking _exams_. Fucking _school._

Oikawa could handle this situation with poise if he hadn’t been cockblocked by university the past two weeks, but as things stand, he is in the unfortunate position of being a) horny as hell, and b) completely unable to do anything about it while Suga—that fiend—is free to do as he pleases.

_‘I feel empty without you,’_ Suga texts him, and Oikawa squirms uncomfortably.

_‘We can fuck when I get back from lecture,’_ Oikawa attempts to mollify him. _‘Hold on for another—’_ he checks the clock and winces, _‘—thirty minutes?’_

_‘Can’t.’_ The reply is instant.

_‘It’s not that long, babe, you’ll be okay,’_ Oikawa insists.

_‘I got hard in the middle of the supermarket, remembering what it felt like to go down on you.’_

“Jesus Christ,” Oikawa croaks aloud. The same neighbor shoots him another dirty look. This time, Oikawa returns it with narrowed eyes and a curled lip.

Suga doesn’t say anything else for a while. Oikawa waits, expecting him to elaborate a little more on the fantasy. Nothing. After five minutes of no activity on Suga’s end, a chilling thought occurs to Oikawa. He feels an air of calm and control settle over his bones. He slouches back, but his legs are spread and he texts openly, body language speaking volumes to his power.

_‘Koushi,’_ he says calmly. _‘Koushi, you aren’t touching yourself, are you? Not after I explicitly told you not to.’_

No reply for a moment and then: _‘So what if I did?’_

Oikawa sucks in a breath, pupils dilating. So that’s how he wanted to play it. _‘You disobeyed me,’_ he says calmly. _‘That wasn’t very good of you, was it?’_

_‘What’ll you do, Tooru? You’re in class.’_ Ha. _‘You going to punish me for being bad?’_ Ha ha. _‘Come and get me.’_ Ha ha ha. Oh, Suga was so _cute_ , thinking he could get away with this,

_‘Go ahead,’_ Oikawa says simply.

_‘…What?’_ Suga replies after a pause.

_‘Go ahead,’_ Oikawa repeats. _‘Go ahead, get off. Grind into my sheets, face shoved in my pillow, jerking off to the way I smell…no, that’s not dirty enough for you, is it? You’ve probably got your face buried in my boxers, fucking yourself on your fingers, thinking that if all you can smell is me, then it’ll be like I’m really the one fucking you, right?’_

_‘Oh god,’_ Suga’s texts break down.

_‘Or maybe it’s not enough on your own,’_ Oikawa suggests. _‘Maybe you’re using one of our toys as a surrogate. Sucking off a dildo isn’t quite as good as the real thing, huh? Even if it feels good in your mouth or in your ass, it can never replicate the heat and weight of my cock, the way it feels sliding into you…’_

_‘Hhhhhh,’_ Suga replies, semi-coherent.

_‘I hope it was worth it, that barely fulfilling masturbating all on your own,’_ Oikawa texts. _‘You won’t be coming again for a long time.’_

_‘Tooru, Tooru, please let me suck you off,’_ Suga practically begs. _‘Let me suck you dry.’_

In his jeans, Oikawa’s cock twitches. Instead of being embarrassed though, as he was earlier, Oikawa just spreads his legs further, enjoying the feeling of pleasure and power trickling down his spine. How desperate did Suga have to be, to let this teasing get him to such a state? Oikawa isn’t even putting in that much effort.

_‘Tell me what you look like, and maybe I’ll go easy on you when I get back,’_ Oikawa orders.

_‘I’m…I’m on my stomach, pillows tucked under my hips,’_ Suga begins.

_‘Good,’_ Oikawa coaxes. On his leg, his hand twitches towards his inner thigh. Oikawa raises an eyebrow at the involuntary motion. Oh dear, he was quite compromised, wasn’t he? Imagining Suga with his ass in the air, cheeks red…well, Oikawa had meant his cheekbones, but _spanking_ …

_‘I didn’t want to use toys,’_ Suga continues, jerking Oikawa from his train of thought. _‘They don’t feel warm and real like skin. I don’t care about sensation, I don’t want that; I want you.’_

Well. Oikawa is definitely hard now.

_‘How many fingers?’_ He asks.

_‘Two in my ass, three in my mouth,’_ Suga replies dutifully.

_‘Shit,’_ Oikawa replies. _‘You really are desperate. How are they?’_

_‘Not enough,’_ Suga says. _‘They’re never enough. Not filling, not satisfying. It’s never good without you. But…’_

_‘But?’_ Oikawa prompts.

_‘But, since you started sexting me, it’s been a lot easier to get off, thank you for that,’_ Suga says. Oikawa can almost hear the smugly cheerful tone. _‘I came again and I feel much better now. Thanks again for all your hard work~’_

Oikawa’s jaw drops. Did he just get _played_?

_‘Oh, and enjoy the last twenty minutes of class with a boner. I’m sure you have one by now. Bye-bye,’_ Suga signs off.

Oikawa stares at the last text, shocked, but the sense of calm never leaves him. Suga has been bad, _very_ bad, and there could only be one repercussion for taunting Oikawa like this. If Suga could walk tomorrow, well, Oikawa wouldn’t be doing his job very well. He closes his phone with an air of tranquility, dutifully taking notes through the last section of the lecture and going over in his head exactly how he would make Suga pay for such blatant insubordination.

 

\-------------------------------

 

It would be an exaggeration to say that Oikawa runs back to their dorm. He prefers the term ‘brisk walk.’ Not like he could really run even if he wanted to—he’s still somewhat uncomfortable in his pants after the _incident_ and chafing didn’t sound like too good of a prelude to a night of sex. Non-stop sex, at that. Oh, Suga would _pay_ …

He unlocks their door, whistling a cheerful tune, mind laser-focused on the task ahead of him despite his light and carefree demeanor. The door swings open and he calls into the recesses of the dorm, “Honey, I’m home!” There’s no reply, but he’s not all that surprised. He kicks off his shoes and pads into the living room.

Right around the corner, Suga stands in the kitchen, music playing softly from a radio. He hums along to the song, appearing to be just as carefree as Oikawa, but Oikawa notes the slight tightness to his shoulders that means he has acknowledged Oikawa’s presence. He’s washing their dishes, hips moving back and forth just a tad, in time to the music.

Oikawa grabs a dish towel and whips it at Suga, smacking him on the ass. Suga yelps and jumps. “Hello to you too,” Suga says, rolling his eyes, but there’s begrudging fondness in his tone, too. He’s careful not to let his attention linger too long on Oikawa which makes Oikawa grin, predatory. His words must be weighing pretty heavily on Suga, huh?

He fits his thumbs into the tightness in Suga’s shoulders, pressing them in and squeezing the muscle. Suga gasps at the touch then groans as Oikawa continues to massage the tension out of his shoulders. The sponge drops from his hand back into the sink.

“Something…weighing on you?” Oikawa asks, leaning in close so that he can breathe his words into Suga’s ear. “Something got you real tense?”

“No, nothing,” Suga murmurs back, words slurred under the sensation of Oikawa’s hands on him. Oikawa presses hard again, where Suga’s muscles dip along his shoulder blades, and Suga’s breath stutters. Oikawa can see the tremble of his lips, the fluttering of his eyelashes, and hunger settles into Oikawa’s bones.

“Good,” he says, and grinds up against Suga’s ass so he can feel Oikawa’s length, fully hard all over again. Suga makes a choked noise and slams his hands on the countertop, shoulders hunching under Oikawa’s hands. Oikawa doesn’t pull away, though—he keeps himself pressed flush against Suga, fingers drawing down his sides to rest at Suga’s hips.

“Good boys don’t have to worry about anything,” Oikawa continues, rocking his hips back and forth against Suga, the same, slow way Suga was swaying earlier, just enough to be teasing. “Good boys get fucked real nice when their boyfriends come home.” His fingers slip under the waistband of Suga’s pants to stroke at his hips.

Suga breaks from Oikawa’s grasp, flipping around. He’s red from the tips of his ears to the smooth length of his collarbones, panting shakily and giving Oikawa a dirty look, but Oikawa sees the trembling of his fingers as the dig into the edge of the counter. “So tell me, Koushi-chan…” Oikawa drawls. “Have you been good?”

Suga juts his chin out defiantly. “I did what I wanted to, as I always do. I’m not your dog, Tooru.” His eyes dance—fear, excitement, and burning fire all throughout.

“Maybe not,” Oikawa grants him, “but I’m not under any obligation to do anything either, you know?” He grabs Suga’s chin, forces him to meet his eyes. “I don’t have to do this.” His free hand slides from Suga’s hip to press against Suga’s ass, giving it a few good squeezes until a half-strangled noise comes out of Suga’s throat. “I don’t have to do this.” He moves to palm Suga’s crotch, grinding the heel of his hand against Suga’s cock, straining against his pants.

“I don’t have to kiss you,” Oikawa whispers, tilting Suga’s head and letting the wisps of his breath run over Suga’s lips, letting the words sink in, letting Suga make his choice.

Suga breaks from Oikawa’s grasp to grab the sides of his face roughly and kiss him.

Suga wants teeth and he wants tongue—wants both at the same time, tongues tracing teeth and teeth scraping tongues. It makes Oikawa smile. But he doesn’t kiss back. He pushes Suga back, holds him at arm’s length, even when Suga whines in protest. “You did a bad thing, disobeying me,” Oikawa says. Suga ignores him, grinding a little desperately against his leg.

Oikawa snaps out a hand to grab Suga’s side, keep him from rubbing against Oikawa. “You’re a bad boy, Koushi-chan,” Oikawa says. “You’re not getting any until you make up for it, prove you can be good.”

“Fine, name your price,” Suga pants. “What do you want? You want to see your cock in my mouth, don’t you? I’ll do it, as many times as you want. I just need you to fuck me, as hard as you can.” And okay, sure, Oikawa might be in control, but he’d be lying if said his cock didn’t jump in a desperate attempt to join the conversation.

He smiles. Smiles and smiles, and pulls away from Suga, backing out of the kitchen and never breaking eye contact. He crooks a finger at Suga, then turns to pad slowly down the hall and into their bedroom, ignoring the tiny noise of surprise from Suga. He can hear Suga’s steps behind him, curious and just on the side of quick. Suga doesn’t follow Oikawa into their bedroom, though, leaning against the doorframe, blinking slowly. Oikawa takes his time stretching, popping his shoulders and rolling his neck. He pulls the chair from his desk into the middle of the room and settles into it comfortably. Spreads his legs.

“Strip,” he commands coolly.

Suga stiffens from his slouched position, standing up straight, shoulders thrown back. They lock eyes; Oikawa’s gaze laughing and challenging, Suga’s unreadable and considering. Then Suga’s eyes slide half-lidded and he steps into the room like he steps onto the court, cranking up the heat, each movement full of purpose and understanding of the power his body held. Suga stands just out of Oikawa’s reach, and then he begins to strip.

His hands start low, nails scratching against the denim of his jeans as he draws his hands up his body. He grasps at the edge of his shirt, pulling it up just far enough for Oikawa to catch a glance of his taut stomach, then letting go of the fabric and continuing to move his hands upwards with a roll of his hips. (The smile on Suga’s face would make even the devil himself sweat.)

He tangles his fingers in his hair, rustling and tugging at the strands. He pulls particularly hard low at the back of his head, enough to yank his chin up and bare the pale column of his neck. His mouth falls open with a laugh and he pants excitedly. Oikawa’s knee twitches inwards involuntarily, and Suga doesn’t miss it. “Am I being a good boy now?” He laughs breathily.

“Faster,” Oikawa orders, voice little more than a growl.

“As you wish,” Suga obliges. He crosses his arms in front of his chest and pulls off his shirt in one smooth motion. Tossing it carelessly to the side, Suga takes a step closer to Oikawa. Once again, he crosses his arms over his chest, but this time he gives a mock shiver that shakes his whole body. “I’m so cold now, Tooru,” he murmurs, pouting.

Oikawa knows it’s a lie. He can see the sweat beading along Suga’s skin, the rapid, shallow rise and fall of his chest, and the dilation of his pupils. Suga isn’t cold—he’s burning hot as a supernova, warring between teasing his boyfriend and putting an end to the anticipation of how exactly said boyfriend would fuck him.

“Won’t you keep me warm?” Suga asks, deadly soft. He takes another two steps forward and settles comfortably between Oikawa’s legs. Oikawa watches his every movement, teeth clenched. Suga splays his fingers low on his thighs, running his hands up and inside his thigh, one running across his crotch and the other across his ass. “Mmm,” he murmurs thoughtfully. “I’m still so hard.”

Deft fingers unbutton his pants and pull down his zipper, but Suga doesn’t do any more than that. Instead, he goes back to rolling his hips at Oikawa, so close to brushing their crotches together but never actually touching. Oikawa fixes his gaze to Suga’s face, twisted with amusement. “Don’t you want to see, Tooru?” Suga asks. “Don’t you want to see how hard I am for you, how wet I am in my boxers already? You can look, you know. You’re the boss, baby.”

Oikawa looks.

He can see the outline of Suga’s cock straining against his boxers, the exact length and breadth of it; the dark stain of precum soaking through Suga’s grey boxers; the barest tremble of his hips, betraying how much self-control he was showing to keep from rubbing on Oikawa like a cat.

Oikawa lights a hand on Suga’s side, hot enough on the cool of Suga’s skin that his breath hitches. Oikawa smiles at that, rubbing a thumb possessively over his hipbone. “You’re so beautiful when you want me, Koushi-chan,” he says. “But you’re not done putting on a show for me, are you?”

Suga exhales shakily, almost a laugh. “So that’s how it’s going to be, huh?” He slips his jeans down, kicking them off his feet. “I don’t mind,” he whispers. Closing his eyes and leaning back, Suga paints patterns on his inner thigh with delicate fingertips, sighing at the sensation. “That’s better,” he murmurs. His fingers sweep upwards to run over the fabric covering his cock, tracing the shape of it and groaning in pleasure. “And _that’s_ even better.”

He blinks one eye open to look down at Oikawa. “I know this isn’t what you want, though.” His hands slide under his waistband and then he’s slipping his boxers down his legs as well, cock popping out lewdly. Suga discards his boxers with the delicate shake of his leg, swinging it over Oikawa’s leg a moment later to straddle him, wiggling his ass to get comfortable.

“This is what you want, isn’t it?” Suga asks. “Me, completely bare and vulnerable to you, clothed and in control.”

“You sure talk a lot for someone who should be subservient to me right now, Koushi-chan,” Oikawa sighs. He grasps Suga’s thighs just above his knees, digging his nails in a little. “Why don’t I tell you exactly what I expect from you?” Suga’s eyes go wide and his throat bobs. He nods.

“I love how beautiful you are,” Oikawa says quietly. “Your hair and your skin—light and smooth, flawless. You’re soft and pliable at times, then hard as steel at others. You can be as kind as a saint or as vicious as raptor. But do you know what I really love about you, Koushi?”

Suga shakes his head.

Oikawa leans in, lips brushing the shell of Suga’s ear. “I love the side of you no one sees. The one that begs me to fuck him, tears in his eyes; the one that gets off on pleasing me; the one that can throw away his pride because he trusts me to take care of him, treat him right, even when I’m pounding you rough into the mattress.”

Oikawa draws back, grinning at Suga’s ragged breathing and wild eyes. “Look at you, so good for me now. Nice and obedient, naked in my lap, waiting for my next command. Aren’t you embarrassed, Koushi-chan? Don’t you feel _disgusting_ to be so bare when I’m not even flustered? Are you?”

“N-no,” Suga murmurs. “No, I’m not.”

“That’s right,” Oikawa hums, proud. “You want to know why you aren’t disgusted by yourself, Koushi-chan?”

“Yeah,” Suga breathes. “Tell me, Tooru.”

“Because you’re a slut for me, Koushi-chan,” Oikawa says in a sing-song voice. “You’d do anything for me, no matter how filthy, because I turn you on and make you a dirty fucking slut.”

Suga’s hands shoot out to grab Oikawa’s, bringing them behind him to squeeze his ass while Suga grinds against him in earnest. “That’s right, Tooru,” he purrs. “I’m _your_ slut. All yours.”

“Mmm…I want you to touch yourself, Koushi,” Oikawa says. “Touch yourself, and let me watch.”

Suga whines softly but leans back into Oikawa’s hands. He braces himself against Oikawa’s thigh, one hand wrapping around his cock and pumping it, languid and sensual, making his toes curl. “Faster,” Oikawa orders, and Suga picks up the pace, mouth falling open again. “ _Faster_ ,” Oikawa insists, digging his fingers in. Suga picks up the pace yet again, bobbing in Oikawa’s lap from the speed and hand making a vulgar _schlick-schlick_ sound from the precum wetting his cock.

Suga’s thighs spasm once and a smile curls Oikawa’s lips. “Slow,” he orders. “ _Painfully_ slow.” Suga sobs at the lack of sensation but obeys, barely moving his hand up and down his cock. His legs start to shake, actively resisting the urge to finish the job in a few quick strokes.

Then, to land the killing blow, Oikawa tells him: “Stop.”

“Tooru, _please_ ,” Suga gasps. “I’m so close, please.”

“This night would have gone differently, you know,” Oikawa says conversationally. “If you hadn’t provoked me like you did, I would have you come over and over again until you were too well-fucked to move. But you were bad, weren’t you, Koushi? You’ve already come, without me.” Suga bites his lip and doesn’t say anything.

“So you’re going to be good,” Oikawa says. “You’re going to be the absolutely best behaved boy, and the better you are for me, the sooner I’ll let you come. Okay?” Suga nods.

“Good boy,” Oikawa purrs. “Now, get on your knees and suck me off.”

Suga nearly tumbles out of Oikawa’s lap in an effort to get to the floor. Oikawa keeps smiling, smiling, smiling, admiring how desperate Suga looks on his knees, cock hard and red and leaking, all because Oikawa told him that’s what he wants. Oikawa unzips his own pants teasingly slow. “It’s been a while since you blew me, hasn’t it?” He muses. “You’re in for a treat, Koushi-chan. I know how much you like to use your mouth.”

There’s no way to hide the fact that Suga’s teasing has given him a massive boner. Not that Oikawa cares—he thrives on being seen, being put in the spotlight, and he revels at the chance to reveal his cock slowly and tantalizingly. He takes both his pants and boxers off at once, sliding them down his thighs. Like Suga, his cock bobs a little once freed, and he watches the way Suga tracks the movement intently.

Suga makes as if to shuffle forward, but Oikawa holds up a hand. “So eager,” he giggles. “I appreciate the enthusiasm. But I’m quite kind, you know.” He hums. “I think Koushi-chan should take a moment to admire my cock, since he hasn’t seen it in so long. Take it _all_ in.”

Oikawa leans back. “Remember how long I am,” he purrs, running a finger lightly down the length of his cock. “Remember the width of me, how it feels stretching your mouth and your asshole.” Another brush of his finger along the sides of his length. “And remember the shape of my head, how red it is, how good my cum tastes.” He dabs the head of his cock with his index finger, swiping up a bead of precum and holding the finger out to Suga, who sucks in his finger greedily.

“You love it, don’t you, baby?” Oikawa coos. “You love a hot cock on your tongue, sliding wet past your lips, don’t you? You love to swallow my cum, suck up every last drop and beg for more. I’ll let you have that. I’ll fill you. Just tell me what I need to hear.”

“ _Please_ ,” Suga blurts, hands gripping Oikawa’s knees. “Please let me suck your cock.”

“Oh, darling,” Oikawa tuts. “You’re going to have to do better than that.”

“Tooru,” Suga begs, desperation making his voice hitch. “I _need_ to suck your cock. I’ve missed blowing you so much, you were right, a dildo can’t compare. Nothing else but your cock fits right, nothing else is satisfying, so…so please let me blow you. I’ll swallow it all, I promise. I’ll keep it clean for you. _Please_ , Tooru. Fuck my mouth, use me—”

Oikawa’s hand settles in Suga’s hair, pulling him closer with gentle tugs. Suga’s eyes are fixed on Oikawa’s dick, on the verge of dripping. He nearly laughs. “Are you drooling, baby?” Suga ducks his head in embarrassment, but Oikawa is having none of that. “Look at me.”

Suga obliges hesitantly, faced flushed prettily. Oikawa’s other hand cups his cheek gently. “There’s nothing to be ashamed of,” he assures Suga. “You’re beautiful, you’re obeying me, and the way you look when you take my cock in your mouth is indescribable. So don’t look away from me, alright?” Suga gives him a small nod. “Good,” Oikawa purrs. “Now get to work, dear.”

He guides Suga’s mouth to the head, Suga taking his words to heart and not breaking eye contact. Not even when he parts his lips and kisses the head of Oikawa’s cock. Not even when his tongue ventures out to brush against it fleetingly. Not even when Oikawa’s cock jumps, bumping his upper lip. Suga simply kisses it again and wraps his lips around the tip.

This was something Oikawa would never tire of. He could never get over the delicate way Suga began, massaging the head with his lips and tongue, moving forward in small increments, ensuring that he tasted the whole of Oikawa’s length. Oikawa can’t erase from his memories the way Suga’s mouth curved prettily around him and the way his length gradually disappeared into Suga.

Suga bobs his head just a little, almost teasing, still going slow, but Oikawa doesn’t have patience for that, not when he has plans for the rest of the night that involve him watching his cock disappearing into other holes. He yanks at Suga’s hair, hard, only once so Suga can get used to it, but Suga doesn’t even stutter in his rhythm. Oikawa’s hands curl and fist in his hair and he sets the pace, rough and quick, but not deep enough. It’s not Suga’s fault—going as hard as Oikawa was tugging on him there’s no way he could swallow all of—

Suga’s body goes limp, and with a deep breath and a pleased hum at the pain-pleasure sensation of the hair pulling, he relaxes against Oikawa. Eyes wide, Oikawa guides Suga’s head down the length of his cock. Suga swallows all of him. Swearing, Oikawa wastes no more time and begins to fuck Suga’s mouth in earnest, driving as deep as he can and Suga looking up at him, eyes glazed over in pleasure. Oikawa know what that look says. _Use me. Let me be your fuck toy, your slut. Use me, use me, I am **yours**._

His legs stutter, and Oikawa manages to slow down just in time to keep from coming down Suga’s throat. Instead, he makes a mess, coming in Suga’s mouth and letting his cock fall from his mouth, dripping cum down his chin and onto his cheek and shoulder. Unfazed, Suga swallows what was in his mouth and licks his lips.

“Was it good?” He croaks.

“Oh, Koushi…” Oikawa groans. “You haven’t deep-throated me in so long, it was _amazing_. And seeing my cum all over your face is strangely pleasing.”

Suga tilts his head to the side and hums thoughtfully. He swipes his thumb over the cum on his cheek and sucks it off his finger. Then does the same for the cum on his chin. On his shoulder. Oikawa knows his pupils are blown wide at the spectacle. “Good boy,” he murmurs. “Do you deserve to come now?”

“Yes, please,” Suga begs. “Please let me come, Tooru.”

“You will,” Oikawa agrees. “Two times, in rapid succession. I’m going to fuck all the disobedience out of you.” Oikawa nods to himself. “Get on the bed, on all fours.” Suga is crimson from his nose to the tips of his ears, but he obeys, scrambling away with difficulty because of his hard-on.

Oikawa takes his time pulling off his shirt and stepping fully out of his pants. He grabs the lube from their side table and moves to Suga, climbing onto the bed and slapping Suga’s ass. Suga gasps in surprise and glances behind him to glare at Oikawa, but nearly loses his balance when he feels the cool wet of lube tracing his entrance. Oikawa blinks back innocently.

“Tooru, I thought—” Suga starts.

“Nuh-uh,” Oikawa says in a sing-song voice. “No talking unless it’s to tell me to stop, to beg, to cry out my name, or to make any other kinds of sexual noises. I’m in control, remember?”

Suga swings his head back around slowly, still looking dissatisfied. He’s not nearly as dissatisfied when Oikawa’s hand ghosts over his cock as he inserts the first finger. Oikawa, unable to give satisfaction immediately though, doesn’t pump Suga’s cock, only brushes his fingertips over it or traces lines up and down the length while he works his finger in and out of Suga’s ass.

Suga can’t help it—he whimpers at the barely-there sensation. He’s so hard he aches, so hard it’s painful, and if it weren’t for the fact that he knew Oikawa’s wrath would be unbearable, he would have started grinding against the sheets in desperation. As it stands though, all he can do is bite his lip and cry out at the _not enough, never enough_ touches on him from both of Oikawa’s hands.

“Tooru, you are _tearing me apart_ ,” Suga sobs. “And not even physically—mentally. You promised you would fuck me hard, didn’t you? Please, please do it already. I’m _dying_ and my dick is going to fall off, please.”

Oikawa hums thoughtfully and carefully adds another finger, but refuses to change his bare touches on Suga’s cock. Suga lets out a broken wail of neediness, struggling to focus only on the fingers moving in and out of his ass and not the suffering of his penis. His arms shake. When Oikawa adds a third finger, he finally takes pity on Suga.

“If I get you off, you’ll clean up the mess, won’t you?” He bargains with Suga.

“ _Yes_ ,” Suga wails. “At this point I would _kill a man_ for you to let me come.”

“Then come as much as you want,” Oikawa says, and wraps his hand around Suga’s cock completely. Suga _yells_. Oikawa doesn’t ease Suga into it all—he goes hard, the roughness and warmth of his palm pushing Suga close to climax almost immediately. He works three of his fingers in and out of Suga’s ass as he jerks him off, countering any pain with the pleasure Suga so desperately desired.

Suga comes with a sob, cum shooting all over Oikawa’s hand and onto their bed. Every cell in his body trembles and spasms violently as the orgasm sweeps over him. His arms give out and Suga collapses headfirst onto the mattress, his entire body going limp with pleasure. Oikawa smiles fondly at the way Suga instantly goes into sleep mode—they were compatible in that way—drooling on the sheets, but Oikawa isn’t done with him yet, not by a long shot.

He presses his fingers against Suga’s lips insistently. For a moment, Suga ponders his fingers, brow furrowed, but he finally opens his mouth to accept Oikawa’s fingers. He makes a face at the taste of his own cum, but Oikawa pays that no mind, working his fingers in and out of Suga’s mouth. Suga catches on after a moment, sucking on them and nibbling at the digits. Oikawa makes a pleased noise.

“You do such a good job of sucking,” Oikawa notes. Suga rolls his eyes good-naturedly.

“You can’t sleep yet, though, Koushi-chan,” Oikawa chirps. “We still have one more thing to do before you can take a break.”

Suga gives him a baffled look. “But I already came,” he grumbles.

“Ah…but I haven’t fucked you yet, have I, Koushi-chan?” Oikawa points out. “And I’m hard again, how rude would it be to leave me hanging when you’re all nice and prepared. Not to mention limp and worn out and over-sensitive. Are you ready to scream, Koushi?”

Suga swallows nervously. “What did you have in mind?”

Oikawa smiles innocently and points at the wall. Suga follows the direction he’s pointing in, confused. Oikawa wanted to fuck him against a wall? That didn’t seem—oh. _Oh._ Suga chokes on his own spit. Oikawa doesn’t want to fuck him against a wall.

Oikawa wants to fuck him against a window.

“Oh…oh no, Tooru, no, we can’t!” Suga protests. “What if someone sees?”

“Oh? So now you’re worried about people seeing you indecent?” Oikawa asks. “Didn’t seem to be that way this evening when you sent me those lewd snaps. How is this any different?”

Suga was going to pay and pay for teasing Oikawa, wasn’t he?

Oikawa slides closer, leaning over him. “Don’t lie to me, Koushi—I know it’s a fantasy of yours. You’ve got a little exhibitionist streak to you, don’t you? You’re telling me you don’t want to take the risk of someone seeing, experience the thrill that _anyone_ could be watching?” Suga’s cock twitches, the traitor. Oikawa raises an eyebrow. “That’s what I thought.”

“You’re awful,” Suga grumbles, shuffling up their bed so he’s facing out the window their bed is pressed against, a sheet clutched in his hands. “I hate this.”

“Do you really?” Oikawa asks, and there’s a hint of seriousness to his tone.

Suga shoots him a dirty look. “Now who’s chickening out?” He sniffs and lets the sheet fall, revealing his cock and balls to the side street outside their dorm from three stories up. His breath has picked up, but, Oikawa notes, he looks far more excited than scared or anxious.

Oikawa wastes no time. He pushes Suga flat against the window and guides his own cock to Suga’s entrance. After prepping him so much, Oikawa slides in without much trouble at all. Suga groans. Oikawa takes in Suga’s hands pressed against the glass, the fogging up of the pane where he exhales, and his still-soft dick also flush against the glass. “You ready?” He asks.

“Just fucking— _ah!_ ” Suga breaks off to yell as Oikawa starts hard and goes _harder_ , pounding into Suga, one hand on his ass and the other on the glass. He laughs, as wild as Suga cries out in pleasure, Oikawa purposefully targeting his prostate. Oikawa watches Suga’s cock slowly harden with every slide of Oikawa into him, his cock slapping gently against the glass rhythmically.

“Get yourself off,” Oikawa pants. “Come again, even though you’re oversensitive.”

Suga nods jerkily and pumps himself in time with Oikawa’s thrusts. Oikawa’s blood boils with adrenaline, the excitement of their complete exposure and the _thump thump_ of fucking Suga against the window. Against his original intentions, Oikawa feels himself getting close to orgasm. He groans deeply against Suga’s ear, whispering how good Suga is, how hot he feels around Oikawa, how hearing him being fucked turns Oikawa on, how _gorgeous_ Suga looked pressed against a window…

Oikawa comes with a shout he makes no effort to hide, pulling his dick out of Suga’s ass carefully. His cum is everywhere, but that was no matter. Suga glances back at him, tired and flushed and still hard. “Did I tell you to stop?” Oikawa asks, and Suga goes back to jerking himself, making small desperate keening noises every now and then. And Oikawa—Oikawa gets on his hands and knees and cleans up the mess he made.

Suga must have been close, because he comes with a shout as well when he feels Oikawa’s tongue lick in and around his entrance, cleaning up the cum with his mouth. He comes all over the window, which Oikawa finds absolutely hilarious, pausing in his task to cackle at the new addition of splatter art to their room.

“Don’t—don’t _laugh_ …ah…” Suga trails off again when Oikawa goes back to work, the wet heat of his tongue licking Suga into submission. Once Suga is satisfactorily clean, Oikawa nudges him gently back into their bed. Suga protests sleepily, eyes fluttering.

“C’mon,” Oikawa coaxes him. “If you move another few inches, there will be a nice warm blanket and and even hotter man waiting for you.”

Suga blinks open one eye in amusement. “That so? I must be one lucky guy,” he murmurs, but moves regardless. Oikawa hops out of their bed to fetch a warm washcloth.

When he returns, Suga is already breathing heavily, close to sleep. Very gently, Oikawa wipes at any leftover cum on his abdomen. Suga hums happily at the treatment. “Where’s my hot man?” He mutters sleepily.

“One hot dude, coming right up,” Oikawa announces, climbing into bed and pulling their comforter up. Suga moves towards his warmth instinctually, wrapping around Oikawa like an octopus and nuzzling his face into Oikawa’s shoulder.

“You had a good time, yeah?” Oikawa prompts before Suga can fall asleep on him (literally).

“Of course,” Suga purrs fondly. “You’re the only one who gets to see that side of me, the only person I can trust with it. I love you, Tooru.”

“Ew,” Oikawa says on reflex. “Feelings.”

Suga snorts, but doesn’t reply. Instead, he curls a little tighter around Oikawa and goes back to breathing heavily, on the verge of sleep. Oikawa waits until Suga starts to drool on his shoulder before he gently nudges Suga’s forehead and whispers, “I love you too.”

If he doesn’t catch Suga’s tiny smile, well—no harm, no foul.

 

\----------------------------------

 

Kuroo doesn’t consider himself vanilla. He’s done a lot of kinky stuff in his time, definitely more than the average college student. He also wouldn’t consider himself extreme by any means, but hey: who _didn’t_ enjoy sex toys or bondage?

That being said, this wasn’t a situation Kuroo ever envisioned himself being in.

“What do we do?” Kuroo hisses to Daichi, who is white as a sheet. “What do we _do_?”

“Shut the fuck up, Kuroo,” he squeaks. _Squeaks._ Sawamura Daichi, squeaking.

“Do we just—”

“We never speak of this, ever again,” Daichi decides gravely. “We don’t tell anyone, we don’t think about it, we pretend it never happened, there is no war in Ba Sing Se. Got it?”

“It’s just…Oikawa isn’t that surprising, but _Sugawara_ —”

“Please stop talking,” Daichi pleads with him. “That’s my best friend. I have to figure out how to tell him I’ll never be able to speak to him again without, you know, actually speaking to him.”

Kuroo considers his for a moment. “I mean…if you ignore the fact that those are our friends…it was actually pretty h—”

“ _Shut the fuck up, Kuroo!_ ”

**Author's Note:**

> *BANGS ON POTS AND PANS* USE CONDOMS UNLESS YOU ARE SURE YOU AND YOUR PARTNER ARE CLEAN!!!!


End file.
